


Magic Potion

by Pink_Saber



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Accidentally High, Gen, Mace Windu hates his life, Obi-Wan looks twelve, Obi-Wan talks Scottish when high, Poor Anakin, Poor Obi-Wan, Smol Anakin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:47:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25953967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pink_Saber/pseuds/Pink_Saber
Summary: Obi-Wan ordered a 'magic potion' at the bar.“Is a great idea! I will look quite mature when I’m talking with our mission, I’m sure.”He really, really didn't.ORObi-Wan gets into a bar fight and likes Master Windu's shiny head. That's it.NOTE: this is a side story from 'The Sibling Conundrum'
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Mace Windu, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Plo Koon, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Quinlan Vos
Comments: 6
Kudos: 80





	Magic Potion

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is, the long-awaited magic potion! Its.. okay, I guess?

Twenty-six-year-old Obi-Wan was on his first mission with Anakin, and it hardly even counted as a mission. Still, Obi-Wan nervous. His teeny, tiny, precious Padawan was too little to go down into the big, bad lower levels with him. He’s so tiny and sweet with cute little cheeks and big blue eyes and these missing front teeth that makes him lisp a bit, and he’s just tiny. Anakin is so sweet for a ten-year-old, so thoughtful- he broke into the mechanics room just so he could build him a cleaning droid because Obi-Wan always forgets to do the dishes.

But he’s handling this just fine. He didn’t cry in his bedroom- Anakin’s growing up so fast, it’s already the _first mission_ , where did the time go, he’s already _ten_ , and deep breaths Kenobi- and he 100% didn’t eat half a chocolate cake on his own. He didn’t. (He did, and it was damned delicious. Zero regrets).

A hand slapped him on the upper back, making him stagger forwards.

“Relax, Obes,” Quin-Lan drawled, the nickname making him grit his teeth with annoyance, “You’re so stiff. You need to loosen up a bit- maybe go see some strippers. Or I could give you an _exotic_ massage, if you catch my drift.”

“Absolutely not.”

“To the strippers? Because my hands can work some magic if you let me near your-“

“Feet!” Obi-Wan interrupted, shooting a dirty glare at his smirking friend, “If I let you near my _feet_.”

Almost in sync, Anakin and Aayla roll their eyes. He wouldn’t want to hear about a foot massage either, if he was them, so he doesn’t tell them off.

Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose. Maybe he could turn back to the temple? It wasn’t too late. He could do some nice calming mediation with Anakin, and teach him all about Alderanian geese, or re-do his scruffy (adorable) padawan braid.

“Why did I invite you again?” Obi-Wan moaned, “You’re a menace.”

“You love me,” Quin-Lan said smugly, “And besides, you need me. You have no idea about alcohol at all because Qui-Gon only let you have slushies and water at the bars, so now I have to teach you about the wonderful world for getting absolutely plastered.”

“Do I really though?” Obi-Wan muttered under his breathe.

Quin-Lan swung an obnoxious arm over his shoulder and pulled him close, ruffling his hair that he spent twenty minutes combing through. Obi-Wan squirmed his way out of Quin-Lan’s unfairly muscled arms, frantically patting down his hair.

“You have appalling manners!” He glared. He spent forever on his hair and now it feels like he did the macarena in a wind tunnel.

“And I’m your best friend!”

“A terrible decision, really.”

Quin-Lan placed a hand over his heart, shutting his eyes. “Oh Obes-E-Babe, you wound me. I’m hurt. My sold is crumbling. My light- oh, I see the darkness. It’s so cold,” he shuddered dramatically, “Anakin, tell him to kiss it better.”

“I will _not_ kiss you, you feral-“

Anakin tugged on his robe, looking up at him with sad blue eyes and Obi-Wan knew he was fighting a losing battle. 

“But Master, you said we had to be nice to each other. You hurt Mr Quin-Lan’s feelings, and now you have to kiss it better!”

Force help him, his padawan looks so _earnest_. He cringes, his own teachings biting him in the ass already.

“But-“

Anakin shushed him, the monster.

“Kiss him better. On the cheek.”

“But, I-“

“Did you lie to me, Master? Do I have to even be nice to people? You’re supposed to lead by example,” he said innocently, tears filling his eyes, and Obi-Wan just _has_ to make it all better. Obi-Wan pulled a face, but he reluctantly kissed a grinning Quin-Lan on the cheek, who preened like a peacock, flexing his biceps.

In the background, a smirking Anakin and Aayla high-fived. A small bag of credits floated into their pockets, courtesy of Quin-Lan.

By the time Obi-Wan turned back around, his padawan was sweet and innocent as ever. “Thank you for showing me how to be nice, Master,” Anakin grinned toothlessly- which made Obi-Wan all gooey inside because ADORABLE-, “You’re the best!”

“If you say so,” Obi-Wan said stiffly, eyes soft.

“ _Anyway_ , here’s your crash course to alcohol. Wine sucks but white wine sucks less. Whisky makes you look distinguished. Order cocktails if you want to look fun- sex on the beach or a blow job is always a good hit for that- but not martinis. They can get kriffed. Let’s see, let’s see… don’t drink straight vodka, your tea drinking soul will wither away sip by sip. Rum is good for destroying your memories, and order straight alcohol by saying ‘on the rocks’.”

Obi-Wan waited. And waited. Surely not…

“Was that it?” he said incredulously, “You’ve been drinking since you were fifteen, for force sake! I need more data so I can act according to the situation!”

Quin-Lan sighed, “Obi, Obi, Obi, so much to learn so little time. There’s nothing more I can help you with.”

Oh for crying out- “That’s why I invited you on this mission!”

Qui-Lan shook his head, “Sorry Obes. Just don’t order the magic potion, ‘k?”

“Why ever not?”

“You’re not ready for that yet. Wait until your chest hair grows in first, you get me?”

“I have chest hair, excuse me! Obi-Wan said, outraged, “And don’t tell me what to do!”

Obi-Wan was this close to throwing Quin-Lan off the bridge or strangling him with his damn hair when Quin-Lan’s commlink beeped and he vaulted over the side anyway, Aalya cartwheeling off after him. Obi-Wan watched them fall with incredulity, and took a deep, calming breath.

He can do this. Its just ordering alcohol and talking to the waitress. Not hard at all.

“Come, Anakin. Let’s have some fun.”

“I’m sorry sir, but I’ll need to see your ID.”

Obi-Wan’s left eye violently twitched.

“I’m _twenty-six_ , thank you.”

The bartender squinted at him, even putting on his glasses, “What? No, you can’t be a day older than eighteen at the max.”

He ground his teeth. Jedi cannot throw civilian with the force, he reminded himself. He slapped his ID on the counter and the bartender suspiciously picked it up. He held it up under the light, turned it this way and that, held a kriffing _magnifying glass_ over it.

“Can I order yet?”

The bartender winced.

“Sorry, hold on a moment. DELILAH!” he suddenly yelled, making Obi-Wan flinch, “Delilah, I need you to look up an ID!”

“Fuck off, I’m busy!” said a voice from the beyond, “I have glasses coming out of my ass that I need to wash here!

“DELILAH, this kid looks twelve! We need to type his ID into the system!”

“Screw you bitch, I’m coming- holy shit, he’s twelve!”

Obi-Wan smiled a bit too wide, his eyes screaming murder. “No,” he ground out, “I’m twenty-six.”

The twi-lek lady chewed gum, her lips making an obnoxious slapping sound. “Mhm, honey, okay” she said distractedly, her fingers slapping loudly on a keyboard. She paused, looking at the ID, the screen, and his face.

“Holy shit, he’s actually twenty-six. What a baby face!” she cackled, “You need to grow some chest hair, baby boy.”

Deep. Breaths.

“So can I order now?” Obi-Wan said politely, like he wasn’t straggling the lot of them in his head. He was not twelve! He didn’t even look twenty-two. If anything, he looked twenty- _seven._

“Yup,” Delilah said, popping a gum bubble.

Now, what was it Qui-Lan said? Wine sucks, don’t order Vodka, something about blow jobs…

He smirked, “I’ll have a Magic Potion, please.”

Anakin tugged on his robe, but he brushed his hand away gently. He’s going to show that stupid Kiffar- he has chest hair! He can handle _one_ drink!

Delilah raised a brow, “You sure, honey? It’s gonna screw you over.”

“I’m very sure, thank you.”

Anakin tugged on his robe a bit more urgently this time, but Obi-Wan ruffled his hair. “Later,” he whispered.

Delilah snorted, but went into the back room to fetch him his drink.

“… Master, are you sure that this is a good idea? The Magic Potion-“

“Is a great idea! I will look quite mature when I’m talking with our mission, I’m sure.”

“But-“

Obi-Wan pulled him close, “It’ll be alright. You’ll see.”

They’ll all will see how he, Obi-Wan Kenobi, can handle anything.

What Obi-Wan did not know, and what Anakin did, was that the ‘Magic Potion’ was a 50% strength alcohol with two shots of spice mixed in. And a good dose of weed extract for good measure. Though you would never know because it tasted exactly like apricots.

Anakin watched with an open mouth as his master punched the face of their informant, narrowing dodging a chair to the back from one of the gang members attacking him. He smashed a glass on someone’s chin, ripping off his own outer robe and waving it around his head as he danced his victory on the table. Then, to Anakin’s horror, he started twerking.

“Anakin!” he called, “Keek at me dance, don’t ah hae extraordinary balance!” he said, while falling off the table. 

A cup was slid to him across the bar. Delilah looked at him with sympathy, “It’s some warm milk, honey. Might help you with this nightmare.”

Obi-Wan punched another gang member in the face, but three of them tackled him to the floor. They rolled around, scuffling and swearing up a storm.

Anakin downed the milk in one go.

“Master, let’s go back to the temple!” he begged, “I’ll read you a story!”

That one always worked on him. But he’s a big boy now, so he pretends he only likes the stories for Obi-Wan (he loves reading dramatically) even though he secretly loves being read to.

“Na,” Obi-Wan giggles, landing an uppercut, “a'm huvin awfy much fin.”

Anakin scrunches his nose up.

“Why is he talking funny?” he asks Delilah, who poured him another milk shot.

Delilah squinted… “I think he’s Stewjoni. I couldn’t tell with how stuck up he sounded before.”

Anakin had no idea where Stewjon was.

Finally, his master succeeded in winning his bar fight. His face was caked with blood and his lip was split, but he was grinning broadly. 

“Anakin, let's gang fur a stravaig aroond yonder. Whit aboot pod racing? Or visiting th' senate building?”

Anakin blanched. Pod racing? The senate building?!

“But I’m sooooo sleepy!” Anakin whined desperately, eyes wide with panic, “Can you tuck me in? Pretty please with blue milk on top?”

Obi-Wan cooed about how cute and precious he was, hugging Anakin close to his chest

“Aww. O' coorse, mah wee laddie, let's gang hame sae ye kin kip.”

Again, Anakin understood about half, so he thinks he said ‘home’, so he did something right. He takes his master’s bruised hand and gently leads him outside. It’s not long before they have to stop.

Obi-Wan was staring at some overly dramatic imagine of a mother wearing a potato sack, holding a skinny little baby. Anakin wasn’t very good at basic, but he thinks it says ‘please help those in popularity’. Odd.

Obi-Wan rushes to the sign, gesturing wildly. “Let's gee a' o' oor dosh tae th' brassic! Thay need it mair than we dae!”

Anakin blinked, because what did he just say?

He realised too late what the Knight was doing. Obi-Wan had already shoved their credit chip into the machine slot and pressed ‘donate all’. He could only watch as two thousand credits went down the gurgler.

Then it dawned on him. His eyes widened with horror.

They had to walk home. With no money. And no comm. And his master was _high._

He had pulled his master away from prostitutes _six_ times because he kept trying to hug them! He narrowly avoided picking his masters splattered remains off the ground when he carted him away from a busy road (No, Ani, th' speeders are ma friends!), and he apologised to sixteen different vendors because his dopey master kept trying to steal things and pay with the power of love.

Finally, _finally_ , after a painful hour, Anakin pulled his master into the temple. He’d never been so happy to be back in a giant building of space monks. He led him through the halls were his master waved at every person he saw, like a child, and grinning like a loon. He tripped over Madame Nu and she went headfirst into a flowerpot.

“Sorry!” he yelled at her as she swore obscenities into the foliage, “I’m sure he’ll apologise later!”

He tried to chase after a terrified group if initiates and all of them, including Obi-Wan, tripped over the _same loose tile_. He _farted_ in front of Mastet Gallia and called her a toad while she gagged! It really was a nightmare.

Obi-Wan paused as they walked, and Anakin could have cried, “That's nae th' wey tae oor bedroom,” he said confusedly, “Whaur ur we gaun?”

“To see your friends,” Anakin said quickly, because he needed some serious help. They made it the the high council with great difficulty (Obi-Wan faceplanted six times, giggling about ‘pretty lights’), and they were already in a meeting. But to Anakin’s horror, but not surprise, he barged right in there.

“Hello there, friends!” he slurred, “We did th' mission!”

Obi-Wan was beaming at the council, swaying from side to side. Anakin put his face in his hands.

“… Kenobi,” Master Windu said dryly, “What have you done?”

The master eyed Obi-Wan’s bloodied face and Anakin winced.

“Ah git intae a boozer rammy fur lad's sook. Ah punched thaim a lot. Look at mah biceps, master, dae ye see thaim flexing?” And to Anakin’s bafflement, he Master _flexed._ In front of the council. With no shirt on (he lost it via a passing stripper).

The Master’s cringed.

“… Right. Why don’t you go and sit down?”

Obi-Wan nodded absently, and instead of going for a chair like a normal human being, he sat down in Mace Windu’s lap. The man’s face scowled fiercely as his eyes twitched.

“Kenobi, what are you doing?!”

Obi-Wan giggled and began to snort.

“Yer heid is sae shiny! Sae bawld. Kin a'm feel it? Master, yer heid is sae smooth!” Obi-Wan crowed delightedly, stroking the high councillors head.

The other coucellors sickered as Master Windu scowled. He attempted to shove his master off his, but Obi-Wan clung to him with both arms and legs. An Obi-Pus.

“Noooo!” Obi-Wan whined, “Yer sae warm!”

Shaak Ti attempted to help exact his Master but received a foot to the face for her troubles. Anakin was ready to die.

“Kenobi,” Master Windu growled, “ _Off_.”

“But shiney!” he began to sob, “It’s so shiny!”

Plo Koon hushed Obi-Wan, patting him on the back.

“There, there, young Obi-Wan,” he soothed, “Master Windu’s head will be shiny tomorrow.”

Master Windu glared fiercely at Master Plo, not at all amused by the cackles of Master Yoda.

“Promise?” Obi-Wan whimpered, “Ah lik' th' shiney.”

“I promise. Master Windu won’t be getting hair any time soon.”

This time, Anakin thought Master Windu really was going to murder somebody. He was held off by Obi-Wan the octopus, who was carefully shifted into the arms of Plo Koon.

“Git tae git Ani hame,” Obi-Wan mumbled sleepily, “Kin ye read us a bedtime story? Th' yin aboot dragons 'n' magical princesses?”

Oh sands of Tatooine, Anakin was going to _die_. Obi-Wan squirmed sleepily, making ‘come-hither’ arms at Anakin. Anakin trotted dutifully closer, only for his master to do a massive burp in his face.

“Gross!” he cried out, horrified, “Master, why?”

Obi-Wan giggled. He whispered very loudly, “'Twas th' ceiling lights. They're talking tae me, ye ken?”

With that, Obi-Wan broke down into laughter and began to cry into Master Koon’s shoulder, overwhelmed.

“Master yoda looks lik' a troll! Master Koth stink’s. A'm waantin' a bubble bath. Kin we mak' th' temple gardens intae a bubble bath? Bant kin plooter wit’ me- ye tae, Anakin!”

His Master started sobbing, and Master Koon gently asked him what was wrong while rocking him in his arms. The council wasn’t even bothering to hide their laughter anymore.

“Ah cannae feel mah locks? Och mah force, ah lost a' mah locks! Ah dinnae wantae be shiny like Master Windu!”

The council lost it, and Master Windu put his head on the desk and screamed.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think!


End file.
